


It's a Cold Day in NY

by Efstitt



Series: Pre-Strike Jack Hurts and two Post-Strike [2]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Author is angry, Beating, Canon Era, Cold, F/M, Hurt, I ain’t a lawyer, I’m so mean to Jack, Jack gets whumped, Katherine needs to get a clue, The Refuge, This is cheaper than therapy, Whump, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-31 04:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efstitt/pseuds/Efstitt
Summary: Pre-strike Jack and Katherine meet in winter. Jack is just trying to make a living and gets beat up/whumped a lot, Katherine is kind of clueless and immature until she talks with Jack. We also spend a lot of time in the Refuge. My summary is crap.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction. I would really appreciate some feedback!

Katherine  
Katherine peered out the window at the sound of the shouting. A newsie had placed himself outside of the upscale restaurant and hotel where she was meeting her father for lunch. Her father was late, naturally, so she amused herself by watching the boy. He looked familiar, and it dawned on her that it was the newsie who had stopped her that morning, offering to bring her a newspaper personally. And here he was—was he following her? Did he know she was here? Would he turn around and look in the window? She leaned back a little, hoping she could hide a little behind the brocaded curtain. But then, he was so cute, maybe she did want him to see her if he turned around, so she leaned forward again. She could see the puffs of air in front of his face has he shouted into the cold. As she watched him, she saw the rip in his shirt at the shoulder seam, the tear in the other sleeve, the missing buttons that kept him from buttoning up his shirt in the cold. And no coat—did he not own a coat? Wasn’t he cold? It was the coldest winter in several years, she remembered reading. He should wear a scarf or gloves or something. She ordered some hot tea, and kept watching.

Jack  
Jack chose a new spot that day. Rich people at a restaurant would have the money to buy a paper from him, and maybe he could finish up faster than usual in this cold. He was doing pretty well, but the cold seeped into him fast. His hands were frozen, even when he put them under his armpits to try to keep warm. His ears hurt. He bounced from one foot to the other to keep his feet from getting stiff. He had given his coat, such as it was, to Crutchie, who had grown since last year and didn’t fit into his old jacket—plus Crutchie couldn’t keep moving the way Jack could and so he needed the extra help to stay warm. Jack started shivering, his muscles contracting every now and then like he’d been punched in the stomach. Toughen up, Kelly, he told himself, unless you want to sleep out here too tonight.  


He eyed the lobby of the hotel. Maybe he could slip in there, just for a minute… but the doorman didn’t seem to like Jack being there in the first place, yelling on the sidewalk. But then, the doorman was summoned to the other side of the long entrance, several doors down. Jack moved fast, opening the door and gasping with relief at the warmth of the lobby.

Katherine  
She watched the boy edging closer to the entryway to the hotel. She moved her chair back, thinking she might have a minute to talk to him, to see if it was the same boy from this morning. She glanced around the restaurant to see if her father had arrived yet, and then made her way to the lobby.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack

Jack quietly sold some more papers in the lobby, keeping his eye on the doorman, but it was taking some time to feel normal again. His fingers and ears ached as they warmed up. As he looked for more customers, he noticed a young lady enter the lobby, and he grinned, willing himself to stop shaking. The girl he had stopped this morning was coming his way—of all the luck. 

“Pape, miss?” 

“Yes, please. Jack, is it?” She handed him a penny. 

“Yes, miss. Jack Kelly. And what can I call you?” Jack smiled. His stomach rumbled as he became aware of the smells from the restaurant. He hoped against hope that she didn’t hear it. He’d eaten a couple of apples yesterday, which was pretty good for him. But still, he felt embarrassed. He tightened his stomach muscles to try to get it to stop. 

“Katherine.” She smiled back, enjoying the attention, teasing him a little. 

“That’s it? No last name?” 

“Not at the moment. I don’t even know you.” And how did you get that black eye, she wondered. 

Jack grinned again, enjoying himself. “We can fix…,” he cut off, his shoulder snapping back as the doorman grabbed him from behind and shoved him toward the door. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be in here, now get lost! No talking to the ladies here!” Jack slipped on the wet floor and tried grabbing onto the door handle just as the doorman caught the back of his vest and tossed him out onto the gritty sidewalk. Jack felt the ice cut into his hands and heard his pants rip in the right knee. His cap went flying into the gutter. Pennies scattered all over the sidewalk. He ignored it all as he rushed to rescue his papers that had fallen out of his bag onto the ice and slush. No one wants to buy a wet pape. He scrambled around, gathering pennies, trying to get what he could as people walked by, who kicked the pennies away or covered them with dirty snow. Please, let me find enough to stay at the lodge tonight. I can eat tomorrow or the day after if I have to, but please don’t make me or Crutchie sleep in an alley tonight, he prayed. When he finally found what he could and stood up, the door had long closed. His pants were soaked from the knees down. His fingers were frozen again from digging in the snow and ice. He brushed back his curls with the heel of his palm, settling his now wet and dirty cap on his head, trying to pull himself together, feeling the cold cut through his shirt again, hoping that maybe the girl would still come out. He knew she wouldn’t. Why would she? So she could freeze too? Get a closer look at a gutter rat? 

Jack gritted his teeth and limped down the block. His knee was bleeding, his palms were bleeding, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. He tried wiping his hands in the snow. The bleeding would stop eventually. It was worth it, though—he got to talk to Katherine, and she’d smiled at him.

Katherine

The doorman turned to Katherine. “Sorry about that, miss. He shouldn’t be bothering you like that. If he talks to you again you just let me know and I’ll get the coppers in here to take care of him.” 

Katherine turned to him, horrified. “Why would you do that to him, Kloppman? He was just selling newspapers and trying to get inside for a moment! Look at him now!” 

“Miss Pulitzer, he’s a dangerous type. I’ve seen him around and know where he’s been. I’m here to keep you safe, miss, and if I may, I think your father would agree,” he said, nodding over her shoulder. She turned, and saw her father approaching.  
“Why, what’s he done? He didn’t seem dangerous to me,” she asked, knowing her father would disapprove of this type of conversation. 

“He’s been in prison, miss. That should be enough for you to see he shouldn’t be anywhere near you.” 

“What’s this, Katherine? Why are you out here instead of at our usual table?” Pulitzer asked. 

“A newsie accosted her, Mr. Pulitzer. But I took care of him, and was making sure Miss Pulitzer was all right,” said Kloppman. 

“Well, thank you, Kloppman. Here is something for your troubles. Now, Katherine, let’s go in for our luncheon, shall we?” Pulitzer smiled, guiding her back to the restaurant. Katherine let herself be led back to their table, wondering about this boy Jack. As she sat down again, she glanced out the window, hoping he might still be selling at the same spot. He wasn’t there. She craned her neck a little to see further down the block, and thought she saw him, yelling once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack & Katherine, but mostly Jack

Jack stood on the corner down the block from his original spot, hoping he might still see Katherine as she left the restaurant. He finally did, but he noticed she was not alone. Who was that? Her boyfriend? No, too old. Her father? Probably. He walked toward him, put on his best smile and offered him a pape. Her father was tall, that was for sure.

“Pape, mister? Two-headed baby born in Brooklyn!” Jack blocked their way.

“Jack, I…” Katherine started. Pulitzer looked at her and then at Jack, startled.

“Jack? You know this boy? And what is this about a baby in Brooklyn?” Pulitzer asked.

Katherine realized her blunder in saying Jack’s name. “Yes, Father. This is the boy I was talking to in the lobby. He wasn’t bothering me at all. I just bought a newspaper from him. Kloppman completely misunderstood…”

Jack shifted his bag on his shoulder. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. Pulitzer caught his eye and grabbed him by his right collar. He pulled Jack in and said in a low voice to his ear, “Boy, I suggest you move on. If you ever speak to my daughter again I will have you arrested and sent to the Refuge. Are we clear?” Jack yanked himself back and tried straightening his shirt out as he looked at Katherine.

“Maybe I can sell you a pape tomorrow, Katherine,” he said boldly. 

Pulitzer, still looking at Jack, made a motion with his left hand as Jack continued to gaze at Katherine. She looked away and saw a cop starting to cross the street, obviously summoned by Pulitzer. “Jack, run!” she cried. Jack turned, saw the bull, and bolted down the street, vanishing around the corner just as the he arrived.

He ran until he knew he had outrun any bull. He stopped in a side doorway in an alley, looking up and down to make sure no one had followed him. His chest hurt from heaving the cold air. He put his hands on his knees, wheezing. Finally he stood up, tilting his head back against the door, and closed his eyes. He thought of how to see Katherine again. Something about her interested him—her brown eyes, her energetic step, her shouting at him to run. But he knew he had completely embarrassed himself by running away, by being a coward. But the Refuge… no, he couldn’t go back. Not even if it meant not talking to Katherine ever again.

She must have seen him crawling on the dirty sidewalk, getting his papes and pennies out of the ice and slush. He grimaced. Nice. Real manly. Not desperate at all. She must have seen his clothes, the rips, the missing buttons. She must have seen his fading black eye from his latest encounter with the Delanceys. She probably heard his stomach growling, too. What a great prospect he was, he thought to himself. She obviously came from money—he’d known that when he talked to her this morning. Nice long coat, thick scarf, fur-lined gloves. Way out of his league, but what the heck. She talked to him!

He looked around again, but all was quiet. He made his way to a different neighborhood. Not as rich, but good enough. He pulled up his bag and told himself to keep moving. Just keep moving so maybe he could eat today.


	4. Chapter 4

Katherine

That night Katherine knew she would retrace her steps tomorrow. It would be her best chance to see Jack. His brown curls, his defiant look, chin up, as he spoke to her in front of her father—she wanted more. She tried to understand why he would have been in jail. She thought about how he had tried so hard to stop shivering in front of her, how hard he had tried to ignore his rumbling stomach in the lobby, covering it with his wide smile.

She jumped to her feet. She knew what to do.

Jack

The next morning, Jack resigned himself to another cold day. He didn’t plan on it being as bad as the previous day, getting thrown out of hotel lobbies in front of a beautiful girl, but maybe he could find this girl again. He didn’t want to risk running into that doorman though. Maybe he could kind of work the other side of the street or something. The wind blew harder today. His torn shirt and the ripped knee in his pants didn’t do much to help him. No one was likely to leave a coat lying around on a park bench or a trolley in this weather, either. Get to work, Kelly, he told himself. These papes ain’t gonna sell themselves. He hadn’t made enough money to buy any food the day before, but he had been glad he’d made enough to stay at the lodge and help Crutchie and a couple of other newsies stay inside as well.

He made his way to the street after buying his papes, looking for Katherine.

Jack and Katherine

She waited. She was there early, and she waited. Finally the newsies emerged with their bags of newspapers, and then she saw him. He was obviously looking for her, too.

“Jack! Over here!” she called. Her package slipped in her arm as she waved. Jack made his way over, happy that they would see each other today. “I brought you something. I was so embarrassed how Kloppman and Father treated you yesterday, so I wanted to make it up to you.”

“Is that right,” he said. “Maybe we can spend some time opening it tonight.” He looked at her, leaning in towards her, hoping she would catch on.

“Mr. Kelly??” she said, pointing at the package.

“Ugh, all right. We can open it now. It ain’t my birthday, you know.” He tore open the paper wrapping, revealing a wool coat and matching scarf. He stopped. “What is this? What’s this about?”

“I saw how cold you were yesterday, and I wanted to help. My father doesn’t even know he still owns this coat—he’ll never miss it! Isn’t it perfect? I know he’s taller than you, but it shouldn’t be that bad!” she said, looking at him expectantly.

“Miss, I can’t take this. I can’t wear these! Are you crazy? A bull sees me wearing this and I get hauled to the Refuge for stealing, for sure.” Jack shoved the package back at her. She noticed she is no longer “Katherine,” but “miss” again. What is he talking about? What refuge?

“But you just tell them it was a gift from me! And what refuge?” she asked.

“Like a bull’s going to believe anything I say. And the Refuge, miss, well, that’s the city’s jail for kids. I ain’t going there again. I know you’re trying to be nice, but I got work to do.” And right away Jack regretted saying “again.” Why can’t he just shut up?

“I see,” she said. “Well, good luck selling your newspapers. I won’t trouble you again.”

“Katherine, come on. I ain’t trying to be rude. But I can’t go around wearing some rich man’s coat—I’ll get arrested for sure.” He reaches out to her, touching her sleeve. She sees the cuts on his hands, his already red fingers, his thin shirt. She looks at his face, with his wide grin, pleading eyes, and she relents.

“I was just trying to help,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or get you in trouble. And what do you mean, go to the Refuge ‘again’?” She thought that was a little bold to ask, but she wanted to know. Reporters ask these questions, she reminded herself.

Jack froze, then fidgeted with her sleeve. He just met this girl. She didn’t see how he had to watch his step with her kind. “I stole,” he said. “I stole food and clothes for the kids in the Refuge after I was released the first time. They caught me and I got sent back in. I escaped. They’re looking for me.”

Katherine caught her breath. What was this place? Why would a boy steal those things for other children? How bad was it in there? Was Jack lying? Was he covering up his real crime?

Jack noticed her hesitation, and saw the doubt on her face. “Don’t believe me? Fine. No one’s asking you to.” He hiked his bag up on his shoulder and started past her. “I think you do believe me, though. Or else you wouldn’t have told me to run yesterday.”

“Jack, I…”

“I gotta work, Katherine. You want to help? Sell the coat and give me the money.”

Jack

Jack yelled out headlines all morning, each one more outrageous than the last. He was angry. Humiliated. Cold. Angry that he couldn’t wear a nice coat even if someone literally gave him one. Humiliated by admitting his criminal record. Humiliated that he had asked for money. He could probably find ten decent used coats for the boys with the money they could make by selling the nice one. When would it end? Still, he found himself across the street from the hotel around lunchtime.

Katherine

Katherine stood for a moment, stunned by Jack’s outburst. He wasn’t grateful and happy. He was angry. With her! That takes a lot of nerve, she thought. Fine. I’ll sell the coat, she told herself. Won’t that shock him. And by lunchtime, she had sold it and the scarf, and stood near the hotel, scanning the street for Jack. She found him easily enough, shouting on the sidewalk across the street. She made her way over to him, taking satisfaction in his wide eyes as she opened his bag, poured in the money, and walked away.

Jack and Katherine

She did it, he thought. How about that. Jack caught up with her, trying to catch her eye.

“Hey, I made a lot of money today, just look in my bag,” Jack said. “Can I treat you to lunch?” It had been two days now since he’d eaten anything. Lunch sounded heavenly, and now with Katherine Jack was sure this day would end better than yesterday.

She turned, and looked him up and down. “Of course,” she said primly. “Lead the way.” Jack took her hand and started walking faster, almost at a run. Katherine kept up, exhilarated by the movement. They turned a corner and ran straight into the cop Pulitzer had summoned the day before. Jack skidded to a stop and tried to back away, but lost his balance and landed on the inside section of the sidewalk. Katherine kept going a few steps before realizing she had lost Jack.

“What have we here,” said the cop, moving toward Jack, forcing him against the wall of the corner building. “Why is this fine lady chasing you? Take something that wasn’t yours, hm? Ain’t you Snyder’s runaway?” He grabbed Jack’s arm, forcing him over onto his stomach, and swiftly had him handcuffed. “Let’s have a look in this bag, boy.”

“Officer, please! No, he didn’t do anything!” Katherine pleaded.

“And how is it this newsie has so much money in his bag, then, miss? It ain’t his, I can tell you that. You’d better check your purse to make sure you ain’t missing anything else,” the cop said. He kept his knee on Jack’s back as he looked through the bag. Jack turned his head away from Katherine so she wouldn’t see the panic on his face.

“That was my gift to him! I promise, it was! Let him go!” she begged.

“Not likely, miss. I don’t know what he told you, but this one thinks he can get away with anything. Looks like he hasn’t learned his lesson, either. Let’s see what Snyder thinks this time, boy,” he grinned at Jack as he forced him to his knees. “Bet he’ll know how to handle you.” 

Jack closed his eyes, trying not to summon his memories. He looked up at Katherine. “Tell the boys,” he said. “Newsies Lodge on Duane Street.” Another officer arrived, and Jack winced as he was pulled to his feet. Grabbing Jack by his arms, they dragged him down the street to the police wagon.


	5. Chapter 5

Katherine pulled up her skirts and raced down the street after them. “Wait!” she cried. “You have it all wrong! Take me with you and I can explain!”

The cops didn’t stop. One unlocked the wagon and they both lifted Jack in and tossed him face first onto the floor. Jack got to his knees and started getting himself to a sitting position, still bent over with his arms awkwardly behind him. Katherine caught up to them and took the arm of the closer officer. “Please! I can help you!” She had no idea how she was going to do this, but she’d figure it out later.

“You want to help us?” He snorted. “You got it. Everyone would love to hear how this kid is an angel. Look, help yourself and leave him to us. You look like you could keep a lot better company than this piece of trash.”

“Take me with you,” she insisted. “I’ll tell my father to give you a reward.” 

The officer looked at her, taking in her obvious wealth. “Fine. Sit up front. I’ll be back here taking care of your, uh, friend.” Katherine jumped up on the seat next to the officer driving the wagon. The officer riding in back snapped ankle cuffs on Jack and then fastened his handcuffs to a window bar. “Ain’t taking any chances with you, kid.” He cut Jack’s bag strap and pulled the bag away. “Gonna need this for evidence.”

Jack tried to look up at the officer. “I ain’t who you think I am. I got no idea who Snyder is.”

“Shaddup, you.” The officer smacked the back of Jack’s head with his blackjack. Jack choked back a cry, hunching forward one way and then the other, not wanting Katherine to hear him. Dazed, he sat blinking his way back to himself until they arrived at the Refuge.

Once the wagon had entered the gates of the Refuge, the driving officer helped Katherine down. The wagon was unlocked, and Jack was pulled out and dropped onto the stone entry. “Get up, boy,” the driver said. Jack rolled to his knees and staggered upright, ankle cuffs clinking. “Katherine, you gotta leave. This ain’t no place you want to be.”

“I’m not leaving, Jack,” she said firmly. “No.”

The cops once again took Jack’s arms and pulled him inside to Snyder’s door. Knocking and hearing a “Come!”, they opened the door with obvious pride. “Look here, Mr. Snyder! Your long lost favorite convict!” They pushed Jack forward.

“And who is coming with him, gentlemen?” said Snyder, smiling, making his way around his desk. “The latest victim?”

“That’s what we thought, but she wanted to come along to ‘help’ us. Promised a reward, she did.”

Snyder stopped in his tracks. He looked hard at Katherine. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Katherine. Katherine... P-P-Plumber.”

“What’s the matter, ain’t you sure?” Snyder sneered, looking at her closely.

“Of course. Now, if you release this boy to my custody, I will made sure my father sends you a large donation. It will be worth your while.”

“I don’t think you understand our justice system, Miss, um, Plumber,” Snyder said. “Tell you what. I ensure that Jack here gets what is coming to him, and you come to me with a number for that donation you are sure you can get. Maybe we can make a deal.”

Katherine paused. “What does that mean, what he has coming to him? And how much time will you give me?”

Snyder said soothingly, “You can have as much time as you need, dear. Jack is here for rehabilitation, that’s all. He needs help, as you can see. Poor orphan has lost his way. We will help him, and you can take custody of him once we have this all settled.”

Katherine knew something wasn’t right, but she didn’t know what. She knew she could help Jack with money. She’d seen her father get his way with money all the time. But maybe Snyder could help Jack? But hadn’t Jack gotten arrested trying to feed the kids already here? Katherine wasn’t sure what to do, but she knew she’d help Jack if she moved faster rather than slower. But maybe this could be her big break, to show her father she could write a serious news story. She shouldn’t leave, not just yet. An eyewitness report! Yes, that was it.

“Fine. I’ll leave and get your donation. Officers, you may go. I’ll get a cab, thank you. Your reward will be waiting for you by tomorrow,” she said as imperiously as she dared.

Snyder smirked. “Keys, please, officers. We need to transfer restraints before you go.”

Jack

Jack stood in the office, shaking from the cold still or from being terrified of Snyder or from hunger he couldn’t say. His head throbbed. His face stung from being thrown into the wagon. It was hard for him to follow what was happening with Katherine and Snyder, but he knew that for the moment he wasn’t getting the beating he knew was waiting for him, so he tried to stay still. What was taking so long? Snyder had to be itching to get his hands on him. It had been more than a year.

Cuffs released. Cuffs replaced. He stayed still.

He did hear Katherine say she was leaving. No, no, no! He raised his head and started to turn, hoping he wouldn’t draw attention to himself just yet. But she was gone. Figures. Crazy rich girl thinking this was some sort of game. Focus, Kelly. Keep your head on straight, at least until they bust up your brains. Here it comes.

The door clicked shut, the cops and Katherine gone. His hands were released from the handcuffs. “Shirt off, Kelly.”

Jack fumbled with the buttons. Snyder watched, enjoying Jack’s terror. 

Katherine 

Katherine followed the cops outside, then dropped her purse on the ground, deliberately spilling the contents all over. She took her time picking it up, waiting for the cops’ wagon to disappear around the corner. Once they were gone, she crept back to the window of Snyder’s office. She peeked in quickly, then hid beneath the sill. Jack was still there, standing shirtless, facing away from the window, obviously waiting for Snyder. She waited, uncertain.

“Count.”  
The next thing she heard was a loud crack. It couldn’t be. She’d heard of people being beaten this way, but never really thought it was real. Not here, with someone she (kind of!) knew.

“One.”

“Start again. Count with respect, boy.”

Crack.

“One…sir.”

Crack.

“Two…sir.”

The cracks continued. The counting continued. She raised her head up again to look in the window. Jack and Snyder were facing away from her, Snyder holding a thick leather belt. Jack was leaning over the desk, his elbows giving way a little before straightening again after each blow. Blow after blow after blow.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack

Jack took off his shirt, knowing Snyder was watching him. He didn’t even ask Snyder how he should brace himself. He leaned onto the edge of the desk with his hands, knowing Snyder liked this best. A test of endurance, of holding himself up. He knew Snyder would want him to count so he could hear the agony in Jack’s voice. Jack watched as Snyder chose the widest, thickest strap from his collection in the closet. This would be a growing, burning pain, not a sharp one like when he chose the cane or horsewhip.

“Count.”

Crack. Jack focused on the desk.

“One.”

“Start again. Count with respect, boy.”

Crack.

“One…sir.”

Crack.

“Two…sir.”

Crack. Crack. Crack. And on and on. Jack held on, trying to keep his arms from collapsing. The pain was blinding. Was he even on the right number? He knew if he stopped counting then Snyder would start again from the beginning.

Crack. Crack.

“Fourteen, sir.” Jack’s voice broke. He heard the guards laugh from the doorway.

Harder now. CRACK.

“Fifteen, sir.” How much longer? This was part of Snyder’s plan too, so that Jack couldn’t know if Snyder was nearly done or not. Snyder would never say how many lashes he was going to give Jack.

The whipping continued. Jack’s entire back was raw. The end of the belt curled around his body and whipped his side.

“Twenty-two, sir.” Jack couldn’t take much more.

CRACK. CRACK. Again and again and again.

“Thirty-one, sir.” Jack whispered, completely beaten.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. He stopped counting. He had no idea what number he had said last.

CRACK. He cried out.

“Are we there, boy? Ready to beg?”

Jack put his elbows on the desk, dropping his head. He nodded. “Yessir. Please, sir,” he croaked out.

Snyder gave the strap to one of the guards and took his seat at the desk across from Jack. The guard took the strap and whipped Jack with fresh strength.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. Jack begged, “Mercy!”

“I can’t understand you,” said Snyder. The guard whipped Jack three more times.

“Mercy! Please, sir!”

Snyder nodded to the guard. The guard whipped Jack five more times, each time harder than the last, and then stopped.

Jack didn’t remember anything more.

Jack

Jack woke up in a cell. He was on the floor, soaking wet, a guard standing over him with an empty bucket. “Boss said to clean you up,” the guard said, laughing. “Get dressed. Boss wants to see you.”

Jack looked around and saw his now sopping shirt on the floor. His vest was gone, and his cap. He slowly reached for the shirt, barely able to move, and got it on somehow. He got a few buttons done before the guard reached down, pulled him up, and shoved him down the hall. He was in agony. His stomach cramped from hunger.

He arrived in Snyder’s office, pushed into place in front of the desk. Snyder was eating breakfast: steak, eggs, potatoes, toast, and coffee. Jack nearly passed out. Snyder took a large bite of steak, watching Jack watch him. He cut another piece and tossed it to the dog lying next to his desk.

“You’re dripping on my floor.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Clean it up.”

Jack staggered to the supply closet, got a rag, and got on his hands and knees to wipe up the water. His back burned with every movement, his wet shirt pulling at the whip marks. His stomach cramped again and Jack bent over more, trying to hide it.

“Hungry, boy?”

Jack paused. “Yes, sir.” He kept working. No need to invite a fresh whipping.

“Take that shirt off, boy, so I can admire my work.” Jack obeyed. “Let’s play a game. You got the beating you deserved yesterday. You take the beating you deserve today, and you can eat. Every five lashes, you get food.”

Jack looked up, uncertain. He wasn’t sure he could take another whipping. Snyder was already up, taking the horsewhip from the closet. With two strides he was standing over Jack, bringing the whip down on his back. Jack curled up on the floor, hardly able to breathe, the pain was so bad. He cried out. Eight lashes later, it stopped. Jack heard a small thud on the floor, and opened his eyes to see half of a potato in front of him. The dog came over, sniffing at it. Jack lunged forward, grabbing it in his fist and shoving it in his mouth before the dog could get it. Snyder guffawed, “Nicely done, Jack! Well done!”

Jack could feel the blood running down his back from the horsewhip marks. But the feeling of eating distracted him from the worst of the pain. He swallowed without chewing much, still kneeling on the floor.

“Shall we try that again?” Snyder asked. “How hungry are you?” And he towered over Jack to deliver ten more blows, cutting into Jack’s back each time. Jack tried to suppress his screams, making an agonized sound that the guards found amusing. This time Jack got half a piece of toast, which he devoured in seconds.

“That should last you a while, boy,” Snyder said. He kicked Jack in the stomach, hard. He turned to the guards. “Put him on his work detail.”


	7. Chapter 7

Katherine stayed down. The beating went on and on. It paused, then continued. She heard Jack begging for mercy, and she shut her eyes. Finally, the whipping was over, and all was quiet. Katherine took a chance and simply ran to the gate leading out to the street. The guard let her out with no questions asked. 

Once on the street, she paused. She finally understood why Jack had said he couldn’t go back, if this happened to him before. She simply had to get to her father and rescue Jack; he wouldn’t stand for this kind of abuse. Searching for a cab to hail, she was interrupted by the sound of someone calling her name. 

“Miss Pulitzer! Miss Pulitzer, are you all right?” She turned and saw Kloppman coming toward her. 

Shocked, she confronted him. “What are you doing here, shouting at me in public? Why are you asking if I’m all right?”

“Miss Pulitzer,” he said, “I saw the whole thing earlier today. I saw Jack get arrested across the street and saw you ride along with the bulls. I figured they were taking him here. What were you thinking, coming to a place like this?”

“What do you care? You’re the one who threatened to call them if Jack ever spoke to me again. I would think you’d be very happy to see him arrested today,” she said indignantly.

“May I ride with you back to your home, Miss Pulitzer? I can make sure you arrive safely.” He started into the street to hail a passing cab, and before Katherine knew it, they were sitting across from one another on the way to her home.

“Miss, I should tell you, I’m not one who’s going to call the bulls on Jack for talking to you. I have to say that. It’s my job—the best one I ever had, and I ain’t looking to lose it. I figure it’s better if I throw Jack on the sidewalk instead of someone else actually calling the bulls on him. I was a newsie once, you know. An orphan, like Jack. I know all about the Refuge, and whatever Jack’s told you is true. They ain’t never had a decent person run that place.”

“Well,” Katherine said triumphantly, “I’m going to ask my father to make a donation so Jack can be released immediately. And, I’m going to write a news story about the terrible beating Jack just received. I witnessed it myself. That should shut the Refuge down for good.”

“That’s very nice, miss.” Kloppman looked at her for a moment. “I have to say, plenty of folks will say an escaped convict deserves what’s coming to him. But I hope you’re right.”

Katherine wrote at a furious pace that afternoon. Her story was finished just before the dinner gong. She made sure her dinner conversation was focused entirely on her father’s day, asking questions and showing her interest the details he shared. After dinner, she gathered her papers and followed him into his study.

“Father, I have a news story for you. I have seen first hand the violent nature of our treatment of child criminals, and I want to do something about it. And, I think you can help me make an immediate difference for one of them as well.” She presented him with her news story and idea for rescuing Jack. Pulitzer stared at her, debating his response.

“Katherine, let me look into this tomorrow, alone. Promise me you will do nothing further to endanger yourself as you did today.”

“Yes, Father, of course.” She wilted a little, realizing her propositions were not met with the enthusiasm she had hoped for. “But Father, they’re beating him! It’s wrong, and he’s hurt.”

“Dearest, you must see that the criminal element needs more correction than we do. It’s the only language this convict understands. Now, time for you to rest, and I will take care of this tomorrow.”


	8. Chapter 8

The next day, after breakfast, Pulitzer had his driver take him to the Refuge. Admitted immediately, Pulitzer shook Snyder’s hand and the two of them settled down in the leather chairs by the fireplace.

“I’m going to need to collect a little more here, Mr. Snyder,” said Pulitzer. “My daughter isn’t the first or only person who has wanted to shut this place down by writing a news article about it. But ten percent might not be enough anymore. I can’t squash stories forever. It’s bad for business.”

“The city hasn’t raised the amount they pay me for each kid in three years, Mr. Pulitzer!” complained Snyder. “Get the city council to budget more funding, and we can split the raise fifty fifty.”

“I can do that, but probably not for another six months. But for today, how about cash. Five hundred should do it,” Pulitzer said smoothly. “Or else Miss Plumber, as you met her, can run her little story. It won’t change anything regarding our arrangement or your long-term prospects here, but you might get some do-gooders nosing around that will make your rehabilitation work here more difficult.”

“I wasn’t sure it was her at first, Mr. Pulitzer. It’s probably been five years since I saw her last. But I did remember your wife’s maiden name was Plumber. And yes, five hundred I can give you,” said Snyder, relieved at arriving at a deal.

“Now. This boy Jack. Katherine is very upset and seems to think he is some kind of innocent pet. What can I tell her? Can I show her some kind of ‘concession’ from you?” Pulitzer leaned forward in his chair.

“Jack, yes. He has no regard for authority of any kind. He needs quite a bit of rehabilitation, as Katherine evidently witnessed yesterday. Tell her I have reduced his sentence from a year to six months. I’m sure he’ll cause enough trouble in six months so that I will have no choice but to increase his sentence by then. Will this make her feel better for now?” Snyder chuckled.

“Fine. She’ll lose interest by then. May I see him now, though? I’d like to see what she sees in him.”

Snyder rose and crossed the room to open the office door. “Get Kelly,” he ordered the guard.

Several minutes later, as Pulitzer was reviewing Jack’s file, the guard knocked before entered the office with Jack. “Sorry for the delay, Mr. Snyder. He wasn’t cooperating with coming to your office.”

Jack’s ankle cuffs were still on, and he clinked as he was led to stand in front of Pulitzer. “Mr. Plumber,” said Jack. “You’re Katherine’s father.”

“You keep your mouth shut, Kelly, unless you’re spoken to,” snapped Snyder. “At attention, boy.”

Pulitzer stood and regarded the handsome boy swaying in front of him. He walked around Jack. Brown curls, brown eyes, one freshly bruised. A cut lip, still bleeding. His face was scraped. Jack lifted his chin, uneasy with Pulitzer walking behind him. Pulitzer noted Jack’s shirt was one step better than a rag, with only two buttons remaining to hold it closed. His hands were rough and dirty, knuckles bruised. The dirty pants were torn, the boots cheap and starting to come apart. The boy obviously had nothing to offer. He was a thief, an escapee even, as he had seen in Snyder’s report. And, embarrassingly, one of his newsies. That settled it. He’d tell Katherine something, anything, but Jack would not be released with any help from him. He clearly needed the discipline offered here. The beating she heard was probably just the beginning of what he deserved.

The inspection over, Snyder shoved Jack’s back to push him toward the door. “Get back to work.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jack, gasping at the shove, stumbling over his chains. The guard grabbed Jack and pushed him down the hall, out of sight.

Pulitzer pondered. He was walking out of here with five hundred dollars and a made up promise for Katherine, but he felt now that she wouldn’t be satisfied with that.

“Let Katherine visit Jack tomorrow,” Pulitzer said, on a whim. “Maybe she’ll feel like she’s accomplished something.”


	9. Chapter 9

Jack

“Kelly, Boss wants you.”

Jack put his shovel down. The coal pile had slowly diminished as he had filled the multiple coal pails for the stoves in the kitchen, the laundry, the office, Snyder’s quarters and those of the guards. Each shovelful pulled at his back. Keeping in mind the threat of another beating if he didn’t finish within the hour, he had kept going. Why would Snyder need him so soon? Another beating already? He hadn’t said or done anything after his whipping in the morning, except work. Scared of the thought of yet another whipping, he resisted when the guard grabbed his shirt, and twisted away from him hard. He swung out blindly, hitting the furnace instead of the guard. Two buttons gave way, and the guard grabbed again, turning Jack front. The guard clipped Jack on his left eye, following up with a jab to his mouth. The second guard pulled Jack’s arms back, and pushed him out of the coal room and up the stairs to the end of the hall.

“Another move like that, Kelly, and I’ll report you right now,” he said in a low voice. Jack stopped resisting and soon found himself standing in front of Katherine’s father. He couldn’t help himself from speaking out of turn. Had Katherine really remembered him? Was he getting out? He stood there, waiting. Katherine’s father got up and walked around him, looking at him closely. Jack suddenly felt very self-conscious of how dirty he was, how ragged, how beaten. He swallowed, lifting his chin and pulling the ends of his mouth back as he pressed his lips together. Soon Jack found himself going back down the hall to the coal room, no questions asked or answered. He lifted his shovel and got back to work.

The dinner whistle blew later that afternoon, as Jack hauled the coal buckets to the stoves and exchanged them for empty ones. He slowed down, looking for a place to put them, but the guard shoved him along. “Nothing more for you today, Kelly. Boss says you don’t get nothing for four days after the way you talked to his guest. Keep moving.” Head down, Jack kept working.

Katherine

Katherine’s father had explained that his gift to Snyder had reduced Jack’s sentence, along with a promise that he would run her story once Jack was released. Her tears and pleading had changed nothing. She was, still, relieved to know she could visit Jack tomorrow. At her father’s request, Kloppman would accompany her to ensure her safety.

Jack

The next morning, Jack was awoken by a powerful hit to his ribs. Another followed on his arm. Another on his side. Another on his leg. He rolled over, exposing his back to more hits with the guard’s baton. Jack tried shielding his head with his arms.

“Get moving, Kelly,” the guard said. “Boss is mad.”

Jack dared to look up as he pushed himself against the wall to stand. “Why?” he asked, only to be answered with a punch to his already swollen eye.

“Not your place to ask, boy. Now move.”

The guards took Jack to the kitchen, where he was handed Snyder’s breakfast tray. “You’re late,” the cook said. Jack took the tray, and brought it to Snyder’s office, laying it on the desk in front of Snyder.

“Boy, my breakfast is late.”

“Mr. Snyder, I didn’t know…” Jack started.

“You know your outburst yesterday in front of our guest cost you four days of your rations. That means you will serve me at all meals instead during that time.”

“Sir…” Jack tried again. The guard punched him in the side, causing him to fall to his knees.

Snyder watched him as he fell, then turned his attention to his breakfast. “Stand up, boy,” he said, not looking at Jack. Jack slowly got up, still bent and trying to catch his breath. “Watch me, boy,” he said, taking his time eating his bacon. Jack looked at him, watching the bacon disappear ever so slowly. “I said stand up straight, boy.” A guard grabbed Jack’s hair and pulled him upright. Jack stood silently, watching Snyder eat. He tried not to think how many times he would have to do this before getting food himself, and bit his lower lip.

After Snyder finished, he scraped the plate into the dog bowl beneath his desk. Jack tried not to look at it. The dog stayed by the fire, resting on the mat.

“Now, our guest yesterday will be sending his daughter here today for a little visit with you. It appears she felt she had to sneak around the other day, and didn’t get to see your beating in its entirety. All she had to do was ask, right, Kelly?” Jack nodded, not knowing what else to do, but feeling a growing sense of dread.

“A good host lets his guest pick the activity for the visit, isn’t that right, boy,” Snyder said. Again, Jack nodded, trying to keep Snyder happy that he was agreeing with him.

“Let’s get our entertainment out, then, shall we?” Snyder asked, nodding at the closet. Jack’s knees started to tremble, but he went to the closet anyway. “Pick out four choices, boy.”

Jack opened the closet door and tried to keep his breathing even. He chose the strap, the horsewhip, the cane, and the three-tailed braided cat.

“Fine choices, Kelly. Put them on the desk, right here, to make it easy for her to choose. She should be here any minute, you know.”

Jack did as he was told. He didn’t know where to look. He was barely healing from his first two whippings. He glanced at the door.

“Ah, good thought, boy. But no, you won’t be escaping. Would you really want to be out in this weather without your shirt and shoes?” Snyder asked. “Give them over. Now.”

Jack pulled off his boots and what passed for his shirt and handed them to the guard. Barefoot, he turned to Snyder.

“You are very quiet, boy. Aren’t you pleased to see your champion, your friend? She will get to know you so much better today, won’t she.”

“Yessir,” Jack whispered. She’d see his bruises, his whip marks, open for all to see. He didn’t know if he could control himself again. Would she see him scream? Would he pass out? Jack began to sweat.

Snyder saw the signal from his guard, and said, “Let’s go out to meet her, yes?” As Snyder pulled on his coat and put on his hat, Jack felt handcuffs snap onto his wrists once again, and he staggered alongside Snyder as they went out the front entry. It was raining, a cold, nearly sleety rain that stung Jack’s bare back as the water began to run down his bruised body.

They went out to the hitching post. “This should do nicely,” Snyder said. The guards undid his handcuffs, pulled his arms around to the front, and fastened him to the rings on the post. Jack started breathing faster, hoping he was wrong about Snyder’s plans. He looked at the gate, where he saw a carriage coming through. It pulled up to the door, and he could clearly see Katherine and, was that the doorman who had tossed him around the other day?

Katherine and the doorman exited the carriage and stopped by Snyder and the now drenched Jack. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his body shivering and his feet already nearly frozen. Snyder invited Katherine inside. The doorman stayed outside, taking in Jack’s wet, half-clothed figure and his handcuffed state. Jack bowed his head, water dripping off of his chin, willing himself to believe that the man didn’t see the marks of Jack’s beatings.

Katherine

Katherine was excited to see Jack, to bring him her package of clothing and food. She knew her article would be delayed, as would his release, but she knew she could help him in the meantime. As the carriage pulled closer to the doorway of the Refuge, though, she saw two figures through the rain. It was Jack, come out to greet her, and Snyder, she could see. As she looked again, though, she saw Jack was shirtless and barefoot in this cold rain. His face was bruised--no, there were bruises all over him. Snyder had chained him to the hitching post. Before she could ask him what was happening, Snyder ushered her inside.

“My dear, if you wanted to see Jack’s need for discipline, all you had to do was ask. Fortunately for you, Jack is willing to show you how far he has come in just a few days. He even thought it would be fun for you to play a game with him,” Snyder continued. “Here are the rules: you choose one of these tools here on my desk. Jack will get twenty-five lashes. Every time Jack makes a sound, we add on, say, two or three more lashes. You will count for us. Every time you look away, we’ll add on about four more.”

“No, I won’t!” Katherine exclaimed. “That’s barbaric. My father won’t stand for it.”

“If you don’t play,” said Snyder, “I choose the tool and Jack gets sixty.”

Jack

Katherine and Snyder came back out, Snyder holding the cane. Jack’s back tensed. He looked at Katherine, confused and scared. How could she agree to this? Couldn’t she see his back? Jack grunted as Snyder shoved him to his knees, his arms now bent up around the post. He rested his wet forehead on the hitching post, praying that somehow this wasn’t going to happen. His swollen eye throbbed. A guard tied his knees to the post so he couldn’t stand up.

He heard Snyder ask Katherine if she was ready, and her shaky reply of yes.

“Silence, boy. You make a sound, you get more. Understand?”

Jack jerked his head yes, shivering as he knelt in the icy puddle at the base of the post.

The burn of the thick cane hitting his back was almost more than he could bear. It left a long, vicious mark every time. He thought he heard Katherine counting. He bit his tongue, his lips, his cheeks as he twisted and swayed, trying to avoid the inevitable pain. The handcuffs tore at his wrists as he pulled up and away from the ground, away from the cane, but was unable to move because of his bound knees. He churned his feet, hoping he could somehow get away, but one blow of the cane on his feet kept him still. Did Katherine say twenty? He let out a moan as the next blow hit. Snyder laughed. Jack moaned again, not knowing how much he could take. Time stopped as his world turned to flashes of pain. Cut upon cut. Lash upon lash. He heard Katherine say thirty-six. The blows stopped. Jack hung from his handcuffs, unable to move. He couldn’t tell if it was rain or blood running down his back. He didn't care.

Silence. He looked up. Katherine was there, tears running down her face. “Jack, I’m so sorry. I will help you, I promise.” She reached out and touched his wet hair, his chin. He closed his eyes at the first gentle touch he’d known in a long time. And then she was gone.

He heard the door to the Refuge close behind him. He didn't know how long he hung there in the sleet and rain. He was alone, save for the guard sitting under the doorway to keep dry as the ice and rain continued all day. He finally let himself think the beating was actually over. As it got dark, he thought, did he dare? He let out a loud sigh to see if the guard would punish him. The guard didn't move. Jack rested his head against the post and began to cry, his bare shoulders shaking. 


	10. Chapter 10

****Kloppman had been pleased to be asked to accompany Katherine, although he didn’t think she should spend time at the Refuge. However, if she insisted on going to see Jack, then he was glad to accept a generous tip from her father to keep her safe. He knew this world.

When they arrived at the Refuge, Kloppman saw immediately that something was not right. No inmate would be allowed to wait for a guest outside. Guests were rarely allowed in the first place. In any case, he noticed Jack’s posture, bruises, and lack of a shirt before Katherine did. Obviously he had been beaten and whipped more than once. His face had a hungry look that he knew all too well. Out in the cold and wet, these were sure signs that this visit of Katherine’s was not going to be the happy one she envisioned.

The whipping was among the more vicious that he had ever experienced or witnessed. Snyder gave each hit with maximum force. Jack pulled at the restraints with all of his strength, and to his credit was able to keep silent for some time. It was a shame when Katherine looked away...it only made things worse for Jack, but of course she came from a less violent world than Jack did. She wasn’t used to it, and Snyder knew it. Kloppman stood back near the carriage until it was over, and then whisked Katherine away from the terrible scene as soon as he could.

He had noticed, however, that Jack must have been assigned to work in the coal room, given his coal-stained hands and particularly dirty pants. Kloppman began to see a way out.

Several minutes into their ride to Katherine’s home, Kloppman said gently, “Miss Pulitzer, I think I can see a path to help Jack get out. May I tell you what it is?”

Katherine turned to him, her tear-stained face still upset. “Anything. Anything, Kloppman.”

“We have to go to the Newsies Lodge on Duane Street this evening, and, I’m sorry, Miss Pulitzer, but we will need some money.”

“That is one thing I can get easily, Kloppman. Obviously.” Kloppman smiled at Katherine, and she offered a little smile in return.

Kloppman entered the Newsies Lodge that evening with an air of familiarity and authority. Some of the boys seemed to know him better than others, but they all gathered to hear what he had to say. Katherine was accepted without question, especially if she was the one with the money to help get Jack out.

“Who hasn’t been to the Refuge?” Kloppman asked. “I need three or four of you.” Specs, Jojo, Romeo, and Albert all raised their hands. “Good. You four are on duty. Snyder doesn’t know you. I’ll see you all the day after tomorrow right here at six in the morning, ready to work. Be dirty. That shouldn’t be hard.”


	11. Chapter 11

Jack ran out of tears. His legs were numb, his knees aching. He couldn’t feel his hands. His back was a mass of pain. The rain and sleet came down harder and harder, a downpour that had water running off of Jack’s arms into the now large puddle he was kneeling in. Every few minutes his body would convulse from the cold, yanking his chest against the icy metal post. His mind started to go blank.

By now it was completely dark, so he noticed when the door opened behind him, letting a shaft of light out into the stone courtyard. He tried looking around, only just able to see Snyder’s silhouette filling the doorway.

A guard approached Jack, and Jack felt his knees released first. His hands were released from the post, and Jack fell into a heap in the puddle, unable to stop himself. “Boss says to get to his office,” said the guard. Jack reached up, hoping the guard would help him up. “Boss says to get to his office,” the guard repeated, stepping back. Jack brought his arm down and tried pushing himself up on his numb hands. He made it part way before his arms gave out. He tried again with no progress. Jack finally started to pull himself along the ground with his forearms, dragging his body out of the water and across the rough, muddy cobblestones. He reached the steps and looked up at Snyder. Snyder didn’t move. Jack pulled himself up the steps, shivering as the rain still poured down on him. He came within arm’s length of Snyder and reached out to touch the hem of Snyder’s right pant leg.

“Mr. Snyder,” he begged. “Mr. Snyder...” Snyder pulled his leg back fast, and Jack just as quickly brought his arm back to cover his face and head, but was not able to stop Snyder’s brutal kick to his ribs. Snyder turned and entered his office.

Jack tried not to cry again. It took him a moment to absorb the new pain before rolling on his front again to drag himself inside. By this time some feeling had come back into his knees, so he managed to semi-crawl into Snyder’s office.

“You took too long getting in here, boy. Cook brought me the dinner tray. I suggest you position yourself accordingly before my food gets cold.” Jack stopped for a moment, trying to understand. Yes, his punishment. He had forgotten. Jack crawled to the side of Snyder’s desk, pausing when he could see Snyder relishing his dinner at last. Jack’s hands and feet stung hard as they regained circulation. Snyder would not like the amount of water he was dripping onto the floor, Jack knew. As it was, Snyder did not pause eating until he was nearly done. He looked down at the still shaking Jack, who had made it to his hands and knees, then looked down on the other side of his desk.

Snyder tossed a piece of sausage into the middle of the room. “Fight for it, boy,” he ordered. Jack blindly obeyed, not comprehending, not fully able to think clearly, and crawled, lunging for it as best he could, throwing his aching, bleeding, wet body onto the floor, but the dog had eaten the sausage piece before Jack even reached the front corner of the desk. Jack lay there, his back burning, catching his breath. Snyder snorted.

“Stand up, boy.” Jack slowly managed to get upright on his knees. Snyder came around the front of his desk to stare at him. He nodded to the guards, who each took one of Jack’s arms and pulled him up to his feet. Jack struggled to stay balanced, trying to find a way to stand that didn’t make him put pressure on the welt on the soles of his feet. “Turn him around. I want to see my work.”

The guards turned Jack around. Snyder took his time looking at the results of his caning. Jack tried to hold up his head, but exhaustion took over and he dropped his head down to his mud-streaked chest. He knew Snyder wasn’t done yet. Snyder walked around front once more. He punched Jack in the stomach with all of his strength. Jack didn’t make a sound. Snyder watched him for a full minute, and then signaled the guards to take him away. They dragged Jack by his elbows to his cell, and dropped him on the dirty concrete floor.


	12. Chapter 12

Katherine

The carriage slowly took Katherine and Kloppman back to the Pulitzer residence. Katherine had never witnessed such violence in her life until this week. She knew her life was gentler than others, but her soul was ripped apart by what Snyder had forced her into today, and especially by what he had done to Jack. Why, she wondered. Why would Snyder have clearly planned to whip Jack in front of her? She had tried so hard to count the lashes, to not look away as Snyder whipped Jack’s already beaten back. If Jack can be silent, then I can watch, and not add to his whipping, she tried to tell herself. But that didn’t work. Once Jack had made a sound, and Snyder had smiled in triumph, she found she had to look away to keep from weeping in anger. She had tried to go to Jack to comfort him afterwards, tried to lift his face to look at her for hope, but he had closed his eyes instead. She had looked at the icy rain running down his bruised face, his neck, his shoulders, his back, his chest, and wanted to stay so he wouldn’t be so alone, but Kloppman had ushered her back into the carriage almost immediately, saying that staying out in this weather was not what her father was paying him to let her do.

But still, why? Surely Snyder knew she was going to publish an article exposing his abusive ways. She thought her father had arranged this visit so that Snyder could correct her first impression of him, and show that he could be kind to Jack as he rehabilitated him, and perhaps dissuade her from writing the article after all. Why would Snyder give her more abuse to write about? Unless he knew he could get away with it somehow, she thought. He was showing off his ability to do as he pleases. Snyder knew she wouldn’t be publishing an article, because somehow he had made a deal with her father. Her father wasn’t going to delay her article, she suddenly realized. He was going to bury it. Why, she didn’t know. But at the moment that wasn’t the point. But wait, she did know. Her father got his way with money. Money was at the root of this, somehow.

While she might be naive, she thought, she wasn’t stupid. She was Pulitzer’s daughter, after all. By the time Kloppman gently proposed his plan, she was more than ready to agree.

That evening at the lodging house, she listened as Kloppman got the newsies to help him get Jack. Once he finished, she cleared her throat. “And one more item, please. How many of you know how to pick a lock?” The newsies stared at her.

“Not to worry,” said Kloppman. “Just answer the question.” Some newsies raised their hands, followed by a few more, until nearly all of them had their hands up.

“And how many of you would like to earn some money by working a few nights? Not now, but in a couple of days.” All hands shot up. “Good. We’ll discuss the details later.” This time Kloppman stared at her.

“Not to worry,” she said. “But you should not come. You need my father to still like you.” She smiled sweetly.

That evening, she heard her father come in the front door. She waited until he had checked his mail, fixed his drink, and settled in his study by the fireplace.

“Katherine, darling, how was your day?” he asked, smiling warmly as she entered the room and sat down across from him.

“It was fine, Father. I visited Jack at the Refuge. Thank you for making those arrangements,” she said. “But all he did was complain about how they were treating him. He was very dramatic. And guess who I ran into this afternoon at the library! Bill Hearst! He invited me to his family’s winter ball next week, so of course I said you would let me go with him,” she chattered excitedly.

“Well, yes, of course you should,” Pulitzer said. “That seems like a far more suitable use of your time.”

“But Father, it made me realize that I haven’t a thing to wear. I haven’t bought a single new dress, never mind a ball gown, this season. My wardrobe is completely embarrassing. My shoes are all worn, my necklaces don’t match anything I could possibly still wear, and my coats all look like they should be worn by children, not a lady,” she pouted.

“How much do you need to be my fashionable girl?” he asked, resigned but smiling.

Katherine panicked for a brief moment. She had no idea how much Kloppman needed for his plan.

“Five hundred dollars,” she stated with confidence.

Pulitzer put his drink down and raised his eyebrows.

“Father, do you want people to see me and think I just came from the Refuge?” She put out her lower lip, then smiled. Pulitzer laughed. “Five hundred it is, my dear. I can even give it to you in cash tonight, actually. You may go shopping tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you, Father! Thank you!” she cried.

The next morning, Katherine left the house and went straight to the hotel. “Kloppman!” she called. “Kloppman, may I trouble you for a moment?”

Kloppman came over to her. “Good morning, Miss Pulitzer. What can I do for you today?”

“I have something you need,” she said, lowering her voice. “I have the money we need, I mean.”

“Thank you, miss. I think I can get what we need for about twenty-five dollars. Will that be possible, Miss Pulitzer?” Kloppman asked.

Katherine choked back a laugh. “Yes, Kloppman, I think so.”


	13. Chapter 13

Jack woke early. He tried to move, but every attempt to get up renewed the pain from the welts on his back. He knew he had been able to move the night before, but a night of lying on the concrete had stiffened his entire body. He managed to reach the cell door, and grabbed the bars. Bit by bit, he gripped the bars and lifted himself to his knees. He rested his head against the bars, breathing hard. He had to stand, he knew. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up using the bars again. The welt on his feet was still painful, but he took his time finding the best way to stand. You gotta walk, Kelly, he told himself. You ain’t done yet. He staggered to the wall to his right, trying not to lose his balance as he fell against it. He tried moving to the next wall, and finally the last wall, before returning to the bars on the door. He sank back to the floor, his back on fire. He had no idea how he was going to bring Snyder his trays.

Speaking of which, he was hungry. So hungry. This was day three of four with no food. The halves of potato and toast seemed so long ago... his stomach rumbled. He ached. Maybe, maybe he could steal something? What were they going to do, he asked himself bitterly, send him to the Refuge? He almost laughed out loud.

His thoughts were interrupted by the morning guard arriving to let him get to the kitchen. He opened the cell door.

“Get up, Kelly,” he said. “A little beating ain’t gonna get you out of work.”

Jack looked at the ground in front of the guard. “I need my shirt and boots.”

The guard grabbed Jack’s hair to turn his face up. He backhanded Jack across the face. “Demanding little shit, ain’t ya. Please.”

“Please,” Jack said.

“Come and get them,” the guard taunted. “They’re right here in the hall.” Jack saw the pile of his shirt and shoes outside his cell. He pulled himself forward and went to pick up the shirt. The guard snatched it and held it just out of reach. “Try again, Kelly.” Jack reached up, but the guard kept moving it just enough. “You’re gonna be late, Kelly,” he said. “You’d better get moving unless you want another whipping. He don’t like his breakfast coming late.”

Jack took a big breath. “I ain’t going down without my shirt on. I got a shirt, and I’m gonna wear it.”

“Got an attitude this morning, do ya. I could report you for that, you know. We’ll see how long your attitude lasts if you don’t get Snyder’s breakfast right now.” The guard smacked Jack across the face again, and tossed the shirt down the hall. Jack braced himself on the floor, dazed, before crawling after the shirt, figuring that would be faster than pulling himself up to walk, and began to put it on.

He nearly cried out as the shirt brushed his back as he determinedly put his arms in the sleeves. He looked down at the tattered shirt. While it had been ripped before, the rips were bigger. It had more holes now. Jack could find only one remaining button fully attached; the second one was hanging by a thread. He looked at the guard.

“Guess Snyder’s dog found a new toy for tug of war yesterday,” the guard shrugged.

“My boots,” said Jack.

The guard looked back towards Jack’s cell. “There they are, back there,” he smirked. Jack knew he was running out of time, but he was determined to get his boots on before seeing Snyder, to preserve the tiniest bit of dignity that remained. He scrambled down the hall, focusing on the boots to keep from letting the pain from his whipping overwhelm him.

“Looks like that dog got a hold of my boots, too,” said Jack, looking at the newly made holes. He had been so proud of these boots. Secondhand, but matching and the right size. Jack couldn’t bend over enough to tie the laces, so he settled for pushing himself up to stand, shoving his feet into the boots, and shuffling along. He ran his fingers through his matted hair, trying to tame it.

In the kitchen, the smells brought him right back to reminding him of his hunger. The guard following him made it impossible to sneak something off of the tray. He grabbed the tray, praying he could keep his balance in his loose boots and on painful feet, and staggered into Snyder’s office. He managed to set it down in front of Snyder without incident, and stood at attention as Snyder ate.

Snyder looked up from his papers. He glanced over at Jack, and began eating. Jack watched the plateful of steak, eggs, fruit, and flapjacks gradually disappear. Snyder took his time, it seemed to him, but as usual had left a little bit on his plate and scraped it into the dog’s bowl.

Jack’s stomach growled loudly. Jack closed his eyes, hoping to avoid more trouble. Snyder looked up.

“It’s only day three, boy,” said Snyder.

“Yessir,” said Jack. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“You caused trouble already this morning,” Snyder said, indicating the growing bruises on Jack’s cheek. “Yesterday’s beating wasn’t enough for you.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jack, not knowing what to say. “I wanted my shirt and boots.”

Snyder looked him up and down, and then stood. He grabbed Jack's jaw and said softly, “You and everything you own belong to me, boy. You are a convict who will learn to live by the rules here. I will break you, boy. Make no mistake. I have no compunctions about whipping you daily if that’s what it takes. Make sure a wretched shirt and boots are worth it.” Jack swallowed.

A knock on the door broke Snyder’s focus. “Come!” he shouted.

A guard looked in. “Mr. Snyder, there is a call for you on the hall telephone,” he said.

“Get to work,” Snyder snapped at Jack. Jack gladly took the tray and limped back to the kitchen before heading to the coal room.

Jack worked the rest of the day cleaning out and filling all of the coal buckets in the coal room and delivering them around the Refuge. He was slower than he had been. Every movement hurt. His hunger grew steadily, until Jack knew he had to do something today to get something to eat. Anything to eat.

Eventually he entered Snyder’s office, which happened to be empty. The guard stayed out in the hall. Jack added coal to the stoves and picked up the empty coal buckets, and then saw the bowl under Snyder’s desk, with scraps still in it. He glanced at the door. No guard. No sign of Snyder or the dog. He lurched down to the floor behind the desk and grabbed the bowl, shoving the scraps into his mouth as fast as he could. He put the bowl down and gathered up the coal buckets, looking around wildly to see if he had been caught. All was quiet. A victory.


	14. Chapter 14

The next day, Jack woke up to the clattering of his cell door being unlocked.

“Get to the coal room, Kelly. Snyder ain’t here. He had an early meeting downtown, he said.”

Jack said nothing. He had cut it close yesterday with the guard and Snyder and didn’t feel like a repeat performance today. He got to the coal room and started to work. The scraps from the day before had helped, but he was still hungry. Day four, at last, he thought grimly.

The guard left him there and went to get his own breakfast. Sure was nice not to have Snyder on his case all the time.

Kloppman met Jojo, Romeo, Albert, and Specs at six in the morning, as promised. The boys looked skeptically at Kloppman’s ragged clothes.

“Not aiming for a rich look here. Let’s go, boys,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

They had walked about three blocks when Kloppman turned down an alley to a shed. In the dim light they could see a horse hitched to an open wagon.

“Before we get going,” he said, “we have to practice something.” He took out four massive wrenches from the bed of the wagon. He pointed to a manhole cover in the alley.

“Open up that manhole, fellas,” he said. “Each of you take a bolt, and make it fast.” The four newsies each grabbed a wrench and got to work. The manhole cover was heavy, but they managed to get it open. “Good enough,” said Kloppman. “Close it up.”

Once the manhole cover was replaced, Kloppman took the reins and the boys jumped in the back of the wagon. They soon arrived at a coal depot, where Kloppman had already bought eight bags of coal. They were huge, and it took two boys to load one bag into the wagon.

As they rode to the Refuge, Kloppman outlined the plan. “Albert, you’re in charge. I was there just the other day, and I don’t want no one there recognizing me. Give ‘em plenty of attitude so they don’t like you none. We don’t need them wanting to spend time with you.”

“Can do,” said Albert.

About a block around the corner from the Refuge, Kloppman got out of the wagon and handed the reins to Albert. “I’ll be across the street looking through the trash bins. Five minutes after Snyder leaves, I’ll give you the signal to go.”

“Right,” said Albert.

“Don’t come back without Jack,” Kloppman said.

“Never,” said Albert.

Five minutes after Snyder left, Albert pulled the wagon up to the Refuge. “Let us in!” he shouted at the guard. “We got deliveries to make!”

The guard looked at the wagon and at Albert. “You ain’t the regular wagon,” he said.

Albert rolled his eyes. “No kidding, genius. Ain’t you heard? It’s the coldest winter in twenty years. Coal depot can’t keep up, so they’re hiring extra to get them done. You should get in on it. It’s good money. Now let us in before we sell your coal to someone who doesn’t want to freeze to death.”

The guard still didn’t move. “You guys usually come later in the day.”

“Listen, asshole, if you want your boss to find out that you’re the reason he’s freezing his ass off tonight, that’s up to you. We got deliveries to make and we got told to do them now.”

The guard opened the gates, and Albert drove the wagon in.

Snyder left the Refuge early, not wanting to keep Pulitzer waiting. He’d never been asked to a breakfast meeting before, especially not over the telephone by a secretary, but he thought it sounded important and he didn’t want any more trouble with him. He entered the restaurant and looked around.

“Can I help you, sir?” the maître d’ asked. “I assume you are Mr. Snyder?”

“Um, yes,” said Snyder. “I’m looking for Mr. Pulitzer.”

“Mister Pulitzer?” the maître d’ asked, puzzled. “Miss Pulitzer is here, sir, but not Mister.”

“Yes, that’s what I meant,” said Snyder, flustered.

“Right this way, sir.”

Snyder saw Katherine and another man sitting at the far end of the restaurant. They were the only ones there. The maître d’ left Snyder at the table and returned to the entrance.

“Miss Pulitzer,” he said.

“Mr. Snyder,” she replied. “Thank you for coming. I had the restaurant opened just for you this morning. Let me introduce you to Mr. Sean Conlon.”

“Mr. Conlon,” Snyder said.

Sean was silent. Snyder shifted in his seat. “What is this about, Miss Pulitzer?”

“Mr. Conlon is also my lawyer, Mr. Snyder,” she said. “He is going to take depositions from any and all children who have been in the Refuge in the years that you have been there. And then he will take you to court, and you will go to prison. As a courtesy, I thought you might want to meet him before he started his work.”

“Does your father know about this, Miss Pulitzer?” Snyder asked smugly.

“I am well versed in the power of the press, Mr. Snyder,” Katherine answered. “And I know that when profit from a story outweighs the profit from accounting errors, the story will win. The difference is my father thought about one story at a time. I am thinking about one hundred stories at once. In addition, I can assure you that my father is in a position to repay any funds that were erroneously accepted by his accountant. His future philanthropic works will surely outshine any budgeting errors. I can say this because I will be the one overseeing his future philanthropic efforts.”

Snyder smiled. “We shall see about that, Miss Pulitzer. Mr. Conlon, a pleasure. Miss Pulitzer,” he said, rising from his seat. He walked calmly out of the restaurant.

Albert and the other boys jumped down from the wagon and started working on the manhole at the back of the courtyard. It appeared to be the only one, so they hoped it was the right one. For normal deliveries, the bags would be handed down the hatch, which then led into the coal room.

The cover off, Albert shouted down, “Hey! We got a coal delivery. You ready?” He didn’t dare shout Jack’s name, just in case there was someone else down there.

Jack jerked up, startled. He hadn’t done a delivery before, but he was the only one working in the coal room, and that voice sure sounded familiar. He went to the delivery shaft and looked up. “Albert?” he said hoarsely. “Is that you? What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to get you, stupid. Now let us give you a bag of coal. Dump it out. Bring the bag back up with you when we pull you up. You get in the bag, and we’ll get you out of here.”

Jack did as instructed. “You look like shit,” Albert said. The boys dumped four full bags of coal down the chute so the wagon would be emptier on their way out, should anyone be paying attention, and drove as fast as they dared down the street and back to the shed where they started in the morning.


	15. Chapter 15

Katherine was waiting for them at the shed. The remaining coal was moved to smaller pull wagons that the other newsies had rounded up, and it was all taken to the lodge. Jack emerged from his bag and eased out of the wagon, blinking and slow to take in where he was.

“Jack!” Katherine cried. She rushed over to him, arms open. She stopped when she saw the dash of fear and then recognition flash over his face. “It’s me, Katherine, Jack. You’re safe now.” Her voice lowered as she took it all in: his completely bruised face, the mud and coal dust all over his arms and chest, the filthy shirt that hung on him with more holes than cloth. She knew what was underneath, of course. He stood so still, and then he smiled a tired smile at her.

“Katherine.”

She gently put her hand on his face. “Welcome home, Jack.”

He closed his eyes, leaning his cheek into her hand.

Jack didn’t remember much after that. He remembered a painful but satisfying bath. He slept. He ate. He slept some more. He woke up one day to see Kloppman leaving a sandwich by his bed (his bed!). “What’s going on?” Jack asked, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but wondering why someone who had thrown him out of the hotel lobby was being so nice all of a sudden.

“Aha. You are awake, finally,” Kloppman answered. “This is my place. You’ve been here for about two days now.” Jack looked down and saw he was dressed in clothes that were far too big for him, but they were clean and dry. “Those are mine,” Kloppman said. “I didn’t think you’d miss your old clothes.”

“Anyway,” Kloppman continued, “you should know that I tossed you out of the lobby because I didn’t want someone else to call the bulls on you. I’d seen you around and heard the other newsies talk. You’re a tough kid. You’d pull yourself up, yeah? And you did. I was a newsie like you, you know. No folks, either. I know what it’s like. And I know about the Refuge and all that. So Miss Pulitzer and I put together our plan to get you out. Here you are.”

“Miss Plumber.”

“Pulitzer.”

No, thought Jack. That means… her house... he sold her father’s… and her father was in Snyder’s office… and she was there, counting, when he was whipped… but she promised to help, she had been so kind… but she also helped Kloppman…. He was confused. Kloppman patiently untangled it for him while Jack ate.

Snyder returned to the Refuge. Rich people. Think they own the world. Snyder had never imagined he’d have an indoor job, never mind an office. But here he was, hobnobbing with the most powerful men in the city, making big deals with money with them. Offering a public service. Getting criminals cured and following the rules. And now this little girl was telling him he would be the one in prison. Kelly was the one who belonged in prison, not him. What did she know about how to break a convict like Kelly, anyhow. She’d never make a case. Never. But she was rich. He knew that she could hire an army of lawyers and put Teddy Roosevelt in jail if she wanted to. Only her father could stop her. But she had met him without her father. With her own lawyer. Snyder glanced nervously around his office. How fast could he get out if he had to?

He opened the door to the hall. “Get Kelly,” he ordered. He shut the door, went to the closet, and surveyed his tools. Maybe she’d come after him. So what. He’d break Kelly if it was the last thing he did. He chose the three-tailed braided cat, snapping it a few times. Not as many lashes required with this one before that boy would beg. Kelly was nearly completely broken, anyway. He'd be easy to manage after another week or so.

A timid knock at his door. “Come!” he shouted. The guard opened the door. No Kelly.

“Boss,” the guard said nervously, “Kelly ain’t in the coal room. There’s a whole new delivery of coal, but he ain’t in there. Nobody seen him delivering buckets, neither.”

“What do you mean, a delivery? The delivery isn’t due until later this afternoon,” Snyder said suspiciously.

Snyder slumped in his chair. Kelly was gone. No doubt out with the coal wagon this morning. None of the coal wagon boys’ descriptions matched convicts he was looking for, and the coal depot swore they didn’t know what he was talking about. It had felt good to fire the morning guards, though. Snyder stood up, stretched, and went to the front gate. "I'm going out," he told the night guard.

That evening, Katherine, Sean Conlon, and Bill Hearst met a slew of newsies at her father’s warehouse in Brooklyn. Many wanted to impress her by picking the lock, but Albert got the honors. “Your palace, miss,” he declared, swinging the door open.

Katherine led the boys to the basement, where stood an old printing press. “Boys,” she declared, “we need to get a publication out asking all kids who have been abused at the Refuge to contact Mr. Conlon here. Mr. Hearst, if you please, show us how to operate this machinery.”

In the following days, Katherine had her press produce numerous publications, not only asking for witnesses, but also detailing the progress of Sean Conlon’s investigation.

Katherine knew dinnertime conversation would be difficult with her father as she worked independently. “You know, Father,” she said, “you’d make more money if you covered the story yourself. So many people are interested and want to help; you’d sell hundreds of more newspapers, which would also help your new philanthropic efforts,” she smiled.

“Ah, yes, those,” he grimaced. “Thank you for raising my moral profile, darling. But actually, you have helped me. I have been thinking about how to make more money, without hiring additional reporters to cover the Refuge story just yet.”

Katherine stopped, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Oh? And how will that come about?”

“Prices for the newsies will be going up.”


End file.
